-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
Journey of a Pain Slut ...
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
And ... MY Little Girl, you were so good, sooooo damned obedient!
nicole
Tribune
Yes, she was magnificent in suffering,
Peony
Magistrate
JOURNEY OF A PAIN SLUT - ACT 6 Chapter 31
I love this moment.
Hanging from my wrists. My legs spread apart. Beautifully naked.
She stripped me. She enjoyed it. I would have enjoyed it too. Slowly taking my clothes off me. Getting me ready.
She likes to see me hurt.
I like to see her hurt.
So beautiful it is.
And now this moment. Almost the best.
A heady mix in my head of fear, anticipation, excitement. I just love it.
Almost as much as the next moment, when he hits me for the first time.
And I love that so much, as much as it hurts. And it hurts. And I know that the hurt will get worse and I will moan and cry out and I know that I am so utterly grateful to him for hurting me.
I count. I say thank you. I ask him for more.
Over my backside, my legs, my belly, my legs.
It hurts so fucking much I want to kiss him.
In the dark of the cabana. The surf masking my moans.
Thank you. Please hit me again. Thank you.
I want it to stop so much that I want it never to stop, ever. Just to go on and on and on.
He stops.
I gasp. Hanging. She looks at me, smiling. She told him to hit me harder. I love her so much for that.
He starts.
My breasts.
His cock touching me. So hard. So good.
It hurts.
Please hurt me more.
He stops.
She's so fucking hot. She's so fucking beautiful.
He puts the cane between my teeth.
His fingers on my trembling thighs. On my cunt. On my nipples. Gentle. He hurts me so much.
My fucking tortured body.
My fucking torn beautiful body.
Squeezes down onto his hand.
My trembling lovely body in his hands.
He takes the cane from my mouth.
He's going to hit me again. Almost there.
I hate this.
Almost the end.
I want it not to stop. Ever.
"Ninety-Four. Thank you, mister, may I have another?"
I want more. Always. Insatiable little me. Hating every bit of pain as much as I need it and adore it. Wanting to hurt more. Always.
And more comes.
Hard. Hard. Very hard.
Into my cunt.
Cutting me in two.
I'm so fucking lucky.
She wants me to hurt.
He loves it.
I'm so fucking lucky.
I hurt so fucking much.
Almost there.
Almost there.
Don't stop.
Almost there.
Get there and don't stop.
Keep on til you kill me.
Keep on til I am just blood and torn flesh.
I hate this pain.
I want to hurt so much.
I hurt so fucking much.
I count.
Almost there.
Hurt me Mister!
Hurt me!
Make me beautiful!
Hurt me!
Hurt me!
I love this moment.
Hanging from my wrists. My legs spread apart. Beautifully naked.
She stripped me. She enjoyed it. I would have enjoyed it too. Slowly taking my clothes off me. Getting me ready.
She likes to see me hurt.
I like to see her hurt.
So beautiful it is.
And now this moment. Almost the best.
A heady mix in my head of fear, anticipation, excitement. I just love it.
Almost as much as the next moment, when he hits me for the first time.
And I love that so much, as much as it hurts. And it hurts. And I know that the hurt will get worse and I will moan and cry out and I know that I am so utterly grateful to him for hurting me.
I count. I say thank you. I ask him for more.
Over my backside, my legs, my belly, my legs.
It hurts so fucking much I want to kiss him.
In the dark of the cabana. The surf masking my moans.
Thank you. Please hit me again. Thank you.
I want it to stop so much that I want it never to stop, ever. Just to go on and on and on.
He stops.
I gasp. Hanging. She looks at me, smiling. She told him to hit me harder. I love her so much for that.
He starts.
My breasts.
His cock touching me. So hard. So good.
It hurts.
Please hurt me more.
He stops.
She's so fucking hot. She's so fucking beautiful.
He puts the cane between my teeth.
His fingers on my trembling thighs. On my cunt. On my nipples. Gentle. He hurts me so much.
My fucking tortured body.
My fucking torn beautiful body.
Squeezes down onto his hand.
My trembling lovely body in his hands.
He takes the cane from my mouth.
He's going to hit me again. Almost there.
I hate this.
Almost the end.
I want it not to stop. Ever.
"Ninety-Four. Thank you, mister, may I have another?"
I want more. Always. Insatiable little me. Hating every bit of pain as much as I need it and adore it. Wanting to hurt more. Always.
And more comes.
Hard. Hard. Very hard.
Into my cunt.
Cutting me in two.
I'm so fucking lucky.
She wants me to hurt.
He loves it.
I'm so fucking lucky.
I hurt so fucking much.
Almost there.
Almost there.
Don't stop.
Almost there.
Get there and don't stop.
Keep on til you kill me.
Keep on til I am just blood and torn flesh.
I hate this pain.
I want to hurt so much.
I hurt so fucking much.
I count.
Almost there.
Hurt me Mister!
Hurt me!
Make me beautiful!
Hurt me!
Hurt me!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
You deserve everything slut ... you are a Little Pain Girl ... MY Little Pain Girl ...
Peony
Magistrate
I look so lovely!!!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Beautiful, pretty, gorgeous, stunning ...
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
JOURNEY OF A PAIN SLUT - ACT 6 Chapter 32
We hadn’t finished, not yet. I was still hard, and fuelled by my demons. The perversions that emanated from within my mind were not yet satisfied, and even though my slut hung, only semi-conscious, she was about to take more of what I had to offer.
I make my way over to the small table.
“You may leave us,” I say to Red, who was still lost in the mists of her own post-orgasmic bliss. “You may have free time. Go relax somewhere.”
As she nodded and left, I knew that it was a kind of torture in itself, depriving the flame haired girl of her voyeur’s opportunity, and that thought brought me satisfaction. As for the slut, well she was too out of it to care.
Dipping my hand into the open bag, I settle on a medium length cattle crop. I want to hurt the slut, and mark her body some more. I pick up the leather crop and give it a testing flex. Stiff with good give. This will do nicely for the session.
"Slut, tell me why you deserve to be tortured." I call out over my shoulder as I gather myself together.
My Little Girl is coming round, and with a quiet grogginess, she speaks.
"I deserve … to be tortured be … cause you want … me to be tortured … mister?" She offers. Bless her, she's trying. It's too bad trying isn't good enough for me.
"I want to torture you, but that's not WHY you're being tortured. Try again." With crop in hand I walk over to her, letting her see the length of leather I hold.
"Because … I've been … a bad … girl, mister?" Again, not quite right. I reach out with the riding crop and gently brush her left nipple with it. Through her own perverted anticipation of pain, it stiffens immediately.
"Almost. Being bad indicates that you've done something wrong. It's not what you've done, but what you are. Try again. And get it right or you'll earn yourself an extra special beating."
My Little Girl's eyes take on a widened look as she struggles to form an answer that will please me.
"Be...cause I'm a … pain slut?" Without moving I can tell she's wincing on the inside, waiting for it.
"Yes. That's why I've named you Slut. It's what you are. You deserve this. Say it." My cock pulses with blood flow as My Little Girl repeats my words.
"I'm being … tortured because … I'm a Pain Slut and … I deserve to be tortured … mister?" Near enough to perfection as can be expected at this early stage. It's like soft, sweet lips to my blood engorged erection.
"Yes, you are." I tell her. My words give her a moment to relax, making the strike of the riding crop all the more surprising as it whips against the flesh of her left breast.
My Little Girl lets out a startled scream at the crop lashes down, bucking in her bondage, but she only ends up hurting herself more as the body weight shifts. I won't correct my action, nor give her time to adjust. She'll want to try and stay steadfast in the whipping. Not bucking means not hurting herself more. In turn, this will reinforce within her subconscious that not reacting to torture is what should instinctively be done. It's almost an art form. I am the artist and my Little Girl is my beautiful subject.
I love my work so much!
I backhand my Little Girl after she's done writhing around. "Did I say you could fucking scream cunt?" Her head hangs limp following from my backhand, the loud slap still echoing around the Cabana. Her cheek flares red as tears begin to stream down her face.
Keeping her voice as calm as she can, My Little Girl replies, "I'm sorry mister."
I don't reply. Instead I raise my arm and bring the crop down against her breasts. Again, and again I strike her, making her writhe and squirm in pain. This time there is no need for her to respond. This session is not about etiquette, it is simply about me striking her as hard as I can.
As her breasts begin to take on an angry red hue, I attack, with precision, against her right nipple. My Little Girl bucks again, howling in pain despite her best efforts. Her nipple begins to turn a purple colour. I lower my hand as she continues to whimper from my last strike, and I move slowly around her.
Without speaking I slide my hand between her spread legs and touch her most intimate of places. My Little Girl's body stiffens at the intrusion. She knows well enough to remain silent, save a pitiful little cry of despair. Ever so gently I move my hand back and forth along her slit. The moisture there begins to dampen more … it is what she wants … it is what she is …
I let the slut gush into my had for only a moment before I pull myself away and move back to her front. The crop whistles through the air, landing on the soft flesh of her right breast, angrily striking against her chest. My Little Girl sucks in air through her teeth, trying her level best not to squirm in pain or scream. I strike her breasts several more times, leaving red marks across her skin with every blow. Following several more lashes, I again stop suddenly and move behind her, my voice silent ... expectation is tangible.
This time she's ready. My Little Girl's body is already stiff, anticipating the violation of her pussy. My hand finds the slit and I gently move my palm in a small circle for a few brief seconds. The slut’s body betrays her as it reacts to my touch, flooding my palm with her juices.
I stop before she has chance to truly respond. As I withdraw my hand, I let one finger gently part her pussy's lips. My Little Girl reacts by involuntarily bucking her hips, trying to take me deeper inside her body.
But the pleasure part is over … for now.
As I lash down once more at my Little Girl's chest, the pain in her eyes tell a story. She's clearly in extreme discomfort. Is it unbearable? My smile tells her that I intend to find out.
Despite her best efforts, she can no longer keep from crying out with each strike. Both nipples are swollen purple and her breasts are completely reddened. The next lash with the crop catches her across the abdomen. The tender, already welted flesh stripes immediately as the slut screams, a higher pitch than usual.
Before she can recover from this new sensation, I begin striking the tender flesh along her ribs.
"Ahhhh! Fuck! No … mister … please … ahhh!" My Little Girl stopped. I smiled as her remembrance of the ‘rule’ not to ask me to stop comes back to her addled mind. She's in so much pain. She is so fucking beautiful.
"What did you say?" I ask her, pausing my strikes. It takes my Little Girl a moment to realise what she said. In a single second, her expression goes form confusion to horror to absolute grief.
"I'm sorry mister, I didn't think. P … please, don't stop."
"Shut the fuck up. Hold this between your teeth. If you drop it, you'll be sorry."
Crying fully now, no doubt from the extremity of the lashing, my Little Girl takes the neck of the crop between her teeth and bites down as I let it go. Returning to the bag I take out a small club. A rounded piece of wood that is about a foot long and two inches in diameter. It hurts when landing on flesh, especially flesh that is already beaten and tender. I show My Little Girl.
"This is what you get now."
I pick up a barbed riding crop from the bag and show her that too.
"This is what you get if you drop the riding crop."
I put the barbed crop down and move behind My Little Girl. Her whole body trembles as I get nearer and disappear behind her line of site.
The slut’s chest and abdomen has been beaten into a deep red, with her nipples dark and angry. Her ass and legs, untouched, will soon compliment her tortured front by becoming black and blue.
Before I start, I push the club between her legs and stroke her pussy. I want her fired up again before I start. My Little Girl groans, but not for long as I pull the club away.
THWACK!
The thick club slaps against her ass, flattening the skin with a loud thud. The slut grunts. No more shrieks, no more screams. That was deep pain escaping her lips. But she keeps the crop in her mouth. I hit her ass again on the same cheek, thrashing the flesh as if punched.
And again.
THWACK!
And again. I bring the club down hard all over her ass, tattooing a beating all over her firm, peachy bottom.
With each hit my Little Girl lets out a pained moan. Soon her ass begins to show bruising. I stop for a moment and let my hand explore her soaking cunt once more. My palm resumes its massaging ministrations, edging the slut. As I pull my hand back, a finger-tip brushes across her swollen clit.
A shriek escapes from her throat. I was expecting a reaction, but not that. It is still inflamed from the cane, and touching my Little Girl's clit must have shocked her more than expected, because the riding crop fell from her mouth.
The slut must have attempted a wild grab and succeeded, for the crop is now barely dangling from her teeth, and will soon fall …. Smiling a malicious smile, I go over to her and take the crop from her teeth and place it and the club down on the table.
“Pl … pl … please mister, don’t use the barbs. N … not today, please?”
Fuck, her pleading turns me on so much. The power. The sexual urge … I love her so fucking much!
"We're almost done for today my sweet Little Girl.”
She would get her wish. The sharp wire barbs would be saved for another time.
I've continued to caress her pussy, and now it is clear that she can no longer take anymore. My slut hungrily humps my hand, trying to get over the crest of her orgasm and cum. I withdraw my touch. She whimpers in bereft desperation.
"Please let me cum, mister."
I place my right hand gently against her bruised ass.
"Very good, Slut. You may cum."
My left-hand beings to massage her in earnest. My thumb slides into her pussy as my middle finger circles her clit, ignoring the extreme sensitivity that she so clearly has there.
My Little Girl reacts immediately. Until now, I've been teasing and torturing her with gentle, fleeting touches. Exhausted, her body soaks up the contact. She begins to pant, rapidly, her hips moving against my fingers without a conscious thought. As I slide along her soaking cunt, my other hand gently rubs her ass, soothing the tenderised flesh.
In a sudden flourish, her whole body stiffens as she is taken by the long-denied orgasm. The slut screams out, louder than any shriek I've given her from pain.
For a full minute, spasms shoot through her glorious body. With each jolt another flourish of ecstasy shakes her. Each jerking movement makes her writhe and squirm, the ropes chafing her wrists and ankles.
Finally, spent and exhausted in the truest sense of the word, she drops limp against her restraints. I remove my hand from between her thighs.
I walk around to the front of My Little Girl, admiring the beauty of her broken and beaten body.
Kneeling I untie her ankles. Stretching I unfasten her wrists, and she collapses in a used, battered and copiously bruised heap on the Cabana floor before me.
"... thank you … mister …" My Little Girl mumbles, between breaths, her eyes downcast.
"You're welcome, Slut." I answer, aware that my aching erection still needs to be relieved.
Looking down at her I smile, pull down my shorts and feel my hard-on spring free.
“But your job is not yet done. My Little Girl needs to say thank you properly, and she needs to swallow every last drop …
We hadn’t finished, not yet. I was still hard, and fuelled by my demons. The perversions that emanated from within my mind were not yet satisfied, and even though my slut hung, only semi-conscious, she was about to take more of what I had to offer.
I make my way over to the small table.
“You may leave us,” I say to Red, who was still lost in the mists of her own post-orgasmic bliss. “You may have free time. Go relax somewhere.”
As she nodded and left, I knew that it was a kind of torture in itself, depriving the flame haired girl of her voyeur’s opportunity, and that thought brought me satisfaction. As for the slut, well she was too out of it to care.
Dipping my hand into the open bag, I settle on a medium length cattle crop. I want to hurt the slut, and mark her body some more. I pick up the leather crop and give it a testing flex. Stiff with good give. This will do nicely for the session.
"Slut, tell me why you deserve to be tortured." I call out over my shoulder as I gather myself together.
My Little Girl is coming round, and with a quiet grogginess, she speaks.
"I deserve … to be tortured be … cause you want … me to be tortured … mister?" She offers. Bless her, she's trying. It's too bad trying isn't good enough for me.
"I want to torture you, but that's not WHY you're being tortured. Try again." With crop in hand I walk over to her, letting her see the length of leather I hold.
"Because … I've been … a bad … girl, mister?" Again, not quite right. I reach out with the riding crop and gently brush her left nipple with it. Through her own perverted anticipation of pain, it stiffens immediately.
"Almost. Being bad indicates that you've done something wrong. It's not what you've done, but what you are. Try again. And get it right or you'll earn yourself an extra special beating."
My Little Girl's eyes take on a widened look as she struggles to form an answer that will please me.
"Be...cause I'm a … pain slut?" Without moving I can tell she's wincing on the inside, waiting for it.
"Yes. That's why I've named you Slut. It's what you are. You deserve this. Say it." My cock pulses with blood flow as My Little Girl repeats my words.
"I'm being … tortured because … I'm a Pain Slut and … I deserve to be tortured … mister?" Near enough to perfection as can be expected at this early stage. It's like soft, sweet lips to my blood engorged erection.
"Yes, you are." I tell her. My words give her a moment to relax, making the strike of the riding crop all the more surprising as it whips against the flesh of her left breast.
My Little Girl lets out a startled scream at the crop lashes down, bucking in her bondage, but she only ends up hurting herself more as the body weight shifts. I won't correct my action, nor give her time to adjust. She'll want to try and stay steadfast in the whipping. Not bucking means not hurting herself more. In turn, this will reinforce within her subconscious that not reacting to torture is what should instinctively be done. It's almost an art form. I am the artist and my Little Girl is my beautiful subject.
I love my work so much!
I backhand my Little Girl after she's done writhing around. "Did I say you could fucking scream cunt?" Her head hangs limp following from my backhand, the loud slap still echoing around the Cabana. Her cheek flares red as tears begin to stream down her face.
Keeping her voice as calm as she can, My Little Girl replies, "I'm sorry mister."
I don't reply. Instead I raise my arm and bring the crop down against her breasts. Again, and again I strike her, making her writhe and squirm in pain. This time there is no need for her to respond. This session is not about etiquette, it is simply about me striking her as hard as I can.
As her breasts begin to take on an angry red hue, I attack, with precision, against her right nipple. My Little Girl bucks again, howling in pain despite her best efforts. Her nipple begins to turn a purple colour. I lower my hand as she continues to whimper from my last strike, and I move slowly around her.
Without speaking I slide my hand between her spread legs and touch her most intimate of places. My Little Girl's body stiffens at the intrusion. She knows well enough to remain silent, save a pitiful little cry of despair. Ever so gently I move my hand back and forth along her slit. The moisture there begins to dampen more … it is what she wants … it is what she is …
I let the slut gush into my had for only a moment before I pull myself away and move back to her front. The crop whistles through the air, landing on the soft flesh of her right breast, angrily striking against her chest. My Little Girl sucks in air through her teeth, trying her level best not to squirm in pain or scream. I strike her breasts several more times, leaving red marks across her skin with every blow. Following several more lashes, I again stop suddenly and move behind her, my voice silent ... expectation is tangible.
This time she's ready. My Little Girl's body is already stiff, anticipating the violation of her pussy. My hand finds the slit and I gently move my palm in a small circle for a few brief seconds. The slut’s body betrays her as it reacts to my touch, flooding my palm with her juices.
I stop before she has chance to truly respond. As I withdraw my hand, I let one finger gently part her pussy's lips. My Little Girl reacts by involuntarily bucking her hips, trying to take me deeper inside her body.
But the pleasure part is over … for now.
As I lash down once more at my Little Girl's chest, the pain in her eyes tell a story. She's clearly in extreme discomfort. Is it unbearable? My smile tells her that I intend to find out.
Despite her best efforts, she can no longer keep from crying out with each strike. Both nipples are swollen purple and her breasts are completely reddened. The next lash with the crop catches her across the abdomen. The tender, already welted flesh stripes immediately as the slut screams, a higher pitch than usual.
Before she can recover from this new sensation, I begin striking the tender flesh along her ribs.
"Ahhhh! Fuck! No … mister … please … ahhh!" My Little Girl stopped. I smiled as her remembrance of the ‘rule’ not to ask me to stop comes back to her addled mind. She's in so much pain. She is so fucking beautiful.
"What did you say?" I ask her, pausing my strikes. It takes my Little Girl a moment to realise what she said. In a single second, her expression goes form confusion to horror to absolute grief.
"I'm sorry mister, I didn't think. P … please, don't stop."
"Shut the fuck up. Hold this between your teeth. If you drop it, you'll be sorry."
Crying fully now, no doubt from the extremity of the lashing, my Little Girl takes the neck of the crop between her teeth and bites down as I let it go. Returning to the bag I take out a small club. A rounded piece of wood that is about a foot long and two inches in diameter. It hurts when landing on flesh, especially flesh that is already beaten and tender. I show My Little Girl.
"This is what you get now."
I pick up a barbed riding crop from the bag and show her that too.
"This is what you get if you drop the riding crop."
I put the barbed crop down and move behind My Little Girl. Her whole body trembles as I get nearer and disappear behind her line of site.
The slut’s chest and abdomen has been beaten into a deep red, with her nipples dark and angry. Her ass and legs, untouched, will soon compliment her tortured front by becoming black and blue.
Before I start, I push the club between her legs and stroke her pussy. I want her fired up again before I start. My Little Girl groans, but not for long as I pull the club away.
THWACK!
The thick club slaps against her ass, flattening the skin with a loud thud. The slut grunts. No more shrieks, no more screams. That was deep pain escaping her lips. But she keeps the crop in her mouth. I hit her ass again on the same cheek, thrashing the flesh as if punched.
And again.
THWACK!
And again. I bring the club down hard all over her ass, tattooing a beating all over her firm, peachy bottom.
With each hit my Little Girl lets out a pained moan. Soon her ass begins to show bruising. I stop for a moment and let my hand explore her soaking cunt once more. My palm resumes its massaging ministrations, edging the slut. As I pull my hand back, a finger-tip brushes across her swollen clit.
A shriek escapes from her throat. I was expecting a reaction, but not that. It is still inflamed from the cane, and touching my Little Girl's clit must have shocked her more than expected, because the riding crop fell from her mouth.
The slut must have attempted a wild grab and succeeded, for the crop is now barely dangling from her teeth, and will soon fall …. Smiling a malicious smile, I go over to her and take the crop from her teeth and place it and the club down on the table.
“Pl … pl … please mister, don’t use the barbs. N … not today, please?”
Fuck, her pleading turns me on so much. The power. The sexual urge … I love her so fucking much!
"We're almost done for today my sweet Little Girl.”
She would get her wish. The sharp wire barbs would be saved for another time.
I've continued to caress her pussy, and now it is clear that she can no longer take anymore. My slut hungrily humps my hand, trying to get over the crest of her orgasm and cum. I withdraw my touch. She whimpers in bereft desperation.
"Please let me cum, mister."
I place my right hand gently against her bruised ass.
"Very good, Slut. You may cum."
My left-hand beings to massage her in earnest. My thumb slides into her pussy as my middle finger circles her clit, ignoring the extreme sensitivity that she so clearly has there.
My Little Girl reacts immediately. Until now, I've been teasing and torturing her with gentle, fleeting touches. Exhausted, her body soaks up the contact. She begins to pant, rapidly, her hips moving against my fingers without a conscious thought. As I slide along her soaking cunt, my other hand gently rubs her ass, soothing the tenderised flesh.
In a sudden flourish, her whole body stiffens as she is taken by the long-denied orgasm. The slut screams out, louder than any shriek I've given her from pain.
For a full minute, spasms shoot through her glorious body. With each jolt another flourish of ecstasy shakes her. Each jerking movement makes her writhe and squirm, the ropes chafing her wrists and ankles.
Finally, spent and exhausted in the truest sense of the word, she drops limp against her restraints. I remove my hand from between her thighs.
I walk around to the front of My Little Girl, admiring the beauty of her broken and beaten body.
Kneeling I untie her ankles. Stretching I unfasten her wrists, and she collapses in a used, battered and copiously bruised heap on the Cabana floor before me.
"... thank you … mister …" My Little Girl mumbles, between breaths, her eyes downcast.
"You're welcome, Slut." I answer, aware that my aching erection still needs to be relieved.
Looking down at her I smile, pull down my shorts and feel my hard-on spring free.
“But your job is not yet done. My Little Girl needs to say thank you properly, and she needs to swallow every last drop …
Peony
Magistrate
JOURNEY OF A PAIN SLUT - ACT 6 Chapter 33
"I'm being … tortured because … I'm a Pain Slut and … I deserve to be tortured … mister?"
He's asked me. I guessed at the reply I think he wants. Because he wants to torture me. Because I've been bad. I don't really care. I try a third one for him.
'Because I'm a pain slut and deserve to be tortured...'
He likes that one better.
But it isn't really true. Not where true means being honest. Not just true because it's what he wants to hear. Honest to myself. It's not really that.
Because I may be a pain slut, whatever, but I don't care about deserving to be hurt. Unless it's a contract - I suck and fuck and I get hurt back. Then you could say I 'deserve' it. It's not that though. Deserve it, don't deserve it. I just fucking want it. Even when I am screaming out how much I don't. I want it so fucking much. It's part of me. Now. But maybe it always was. When I think back. To when I let myself dangle from the overhanging branch in the garden when I was a kid and felt something buzz inside me. From when I pushed my nails into my belly when I lay in bed with a trashy novel. From when I slapped my cunt with a wooden spoon I took from the kitchen. From when I looked up at the nailed man at Mass in Church on a Sunday and thought while I was saying my prayers with my eyes shut tight, 'I wonder if they did that to girls too?'
And now I now that they did. And that they do. Girls get hurt everywhere. Sometimes by bastards who just like hurting girls. Sometimes because they're weird crazy fuck girls who for all sorts of odd reasons just want it. And that's me. A weird crazy fuck girl who just wants to be hurt. A lot. And I've found my weird crazy fuck girl lover Abi who wants it too. And now he's sent her out. So she can't watch. And she'll be sitting on the sand, looking at the sea, and listening to my moans and cries through the cabana walls and wishing she was watching and wishing it was her. Just like I would be.
And so he hurts me more. And I answer him when he asks like the pain slut he wants to imagine that I am, not the one I really am.
I obey him in his rituals, because that way he obeys my desire. He hurts me more.
He hits my tits. I love it. My breasts love being hurt. They love to be bruised and cut.
He shows me a barbed wire whip. I wish he'd use it on me and cut my flesh to ribbons. I pretend I'm afraid. I am afraid, of course. It would be awful. But I would love it so much. But he won't use it because it would fuck me up completely and he can't do that here. Another time, I hope...
And his fingers are in my wet places. I love that. His fingers are pushing and cruel and my wet places are soft and warm and I love that.
And he hits my ass with a stick. A big stick. Meant for it. A thump. Another thump. A bruising sickening thump. I feel sick. I feel my belly retching inside of me. I like it so much.
“Pl … pl … please mister, don’t use the barbs. N … not today, please?”
He wanted to hear that. I know he won't use it. I would like him to use it. I want it on another day, if not this. But he won't.
His fingers are in me. I'm buzzing inside. Boiling up inside.
I ask him to let me cum. I want him to say no. To make me hold it in. It sets me alight, like a bonfire in my belly, when I have to hold it. I love that. Almost more than cumming.
He lets me. And I flood out. It's fucking amazing. I'm hanging there, naked. Bruised and belted red by him. Soaked. Its fucking amazing.
He unties me. I thank him. Like he wants. I fall to the ground. I'm a fucked up mess. A little pile of broken girl. Moaning and crying and as happy as I could be. I'm so fucking happy. I am so amazingly, beautifully happy. I am in the best place in the world and I am the happiest girl in the world and I love being this weird girl that I am and I want to stay being this weird girl and being hurt and hurting is the best friend I have ever had and I think of my lovely friend, my sweet hurting pain and I think of her all the time.
"I'm being … tortured because … I'm a Pain Slut and … I deserve to be tortured … mister?"
He's asked me. I guessed at the reply I think he wants. Because he wants to torture me. Because I've been bad. I don't really care. I try a third one for him.
'Because I'm a pain slut and deserve to be tortured...'
He likes that one better.
But it isn't really true. Not where true means being honest. Not just true because it's what he wants to hear. Honest to myself. It's not really that.
Because I may be a pain slut, whatever, but I don't care about deserving to be hurt. Unless it's a contract - I suck and fuck and I get hurt back. Then you could say I 'deserve' it. It's not that though. Deserve it, don't deserve it. I just fucking want it. Even when I am screaming out how much I don't. I want it so fucking much. It's part of me. Now. But maybe it always was. When I think back. To when I let myself dangle from the overhanging branch in the garden when I was a kid and felt something buzz inside me. From when I pushed my nails into my belly when I lay in bed with a trashy novel. From when I slapped my cunt with a wooden spoon I took from the kitchen. From when I looked up at the nailed man at Mass in Church on a Sunday and thought while I was saying my prayers with my eyes shut tight, 'I wonder if they did that to girls too?'
And now I now that they did. And that they do. Girls get hurt everywhere. Sometimes by bastards who just like hurting girls. Sometimes because they're weird crazy fuck girls who for all sorts of odd reasons just want it. And that's me. A weird crazy fuck girl who just wants to be hurt. A lot. And I've found my weird crazy fuck girl lover Abi who wants it too. And now he's sent her out. So she can't watch. And she'll be sitting on the sand, looking at the sea, and listening to my moans and cries through the cabana walls and wishing she was watching and wishing it was her. Just like I would be.
And so he hurts me more. And I answer him when he asks like the pain slut he wants to imagine that I am, not the one I really am.
I obey him in his rituals, because that way he obeys my desire. He hurts me more.
He hits my tits. I love it. My breasts love being hurt. They love to be bruised and cut.
He shows me a barbed wire whip. I wish he'd use it on me and cut my flesh to ribbons. I pretend I'm afraid. I am afraid, of course. It would be awful. But I would love it so much. But he won't use it because it would fuck me up completely and he can't do that here. Another time, I hope...
And his fingers are in my wet places. I love that. His fingers are pushing and cruel and my wet places are soft and warm and I love that.
And he hits my ass with a stick. A big stick. Meant for it. A thump. Another thump. A bruising sickening thump. I feel sick. I feel my belly retching inside of me. I like it so much.
“Pl … pl … please mister, don’t use the barbs. N … not today, please?”
He wanted to hear that. I know he won't use it. I would like him to use it. I want it on another day, if not this. But he won't.
His fingers are in me. I'm buzzing inside. Boiling up inside.
I ask him to let me cum. I want him to say no. To make me hold it in. It sets me alight, like a bonfire in my belly, when I have to hold it. I love that. Almost more than cumming.
He lets me. And I flood out. It's fucking amazing. I'm hanging there, naked. Bruised and belted red by him. Soaked. Its fucking amazing.
He unties me. I thank him. Like he wants. I fall to the ground. I'm a fucked up mess. A little pile of broken girl. Moaning and crying and as happy as I could be. I'm so fucking happy. I am so amazingly, beautifully happy. I am in the best place in the world and I am the happiest girl in the world and I love being this weird girl that I am and I want to stay being this weird girl and being hurt and hurting is the best friend I have ever had and I think of my lovely friend, my sweet hurting pain and I think of her all the time.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
JOURNEY OF A PAIN SLUT - ACT 6 Chapter 34
“She’s a mess.” Red spoke matter-of-factly as we stood together looking down at my Little Girl, who was laid sleeping on the bed in the second bedroom. She had been there all night, ever since we somehow managed to get her from the Cabana, wearing nothing but a robe, to the bedroom.
“You beat her so badly.”
At first she hadn’t seemed so bad. Beaten, yes, and bleeding just a little. Exhausted for sure, and with limited strength for speech. But she was conscious and sentient, and obeyed my instruction when I commanded her to suck my cock and swallow my seed. She was a wonderful cock-sucker and she performed admirably given what she had just been through.
“I have never seen her so bruised.”
But once I laid her down and coated her bruises with super-strength arnica, before smothering antibiotic and antiseptic on her welts and cuts, she had drifted into a deep sleep and not really woke up since. For a time I was concerned about her developing a fever, but that never transpired, and now it was all about regaining her strength.
“She looks so peaceful, so beautiful.”
Red and I had slept together. We fucked. And then slept. And now it was 9:30 am and we had just eaten a room service breakfast. Perfect.
“We could kill her?”
“Huh?” The statement came from my slut’s friend and lover, the ragged response from me.
“Kill her? You serious?”
“She talks about it a lot. She wants you to cut her open and let her bleed out. In her wildest fantasies she wants me to be cut open too, so that she can lay on top of me and we can let our internal organs merge as we bleed into one another.”
I closed my eyes and groaned.
“Does that turn you on mister?”
Did it? I think it did? Was I sick? I think I was?
“But I don’t want to die. Not really. Dicing with death, teasing it, letting it lap around our naked bodies fills me with lust, but I don’t want to actually die.”
I nodded, my throat dry, my voice momentarily incapable.
“But she does, she would die if everything about it was right. Like it was in her fantasies.”
Fuck. Did she mean this? Was Red serious?
“Talking like this has made you hard mister.”
She was right, it had, so fucking hard.
“Did me being fucked by those guys turn you on?”
It did. I nodded silently. “You mean raped?” I added.
She smiled, “I guess, if that’s how you like to think of it? Gang-raped mister. I was helpless and they laughed while they fucked me everywhere …”
Holy crap! Now I really was hard, achingly so. Did I just moan?
As she looked at me, I felt Red’s hand slip into mine and our fingers entwine.
“Come with me mister.” She pulled gently and I went with her to the master bedroom, and the bed in which we had slept and fucked.
“It turned me on too,” Did she mean the rape or the death fantasy? Probably both. Did it even matter?
Red looks at me as we enter the room and I am leaning on the dresser with this tattooed beauty up close to me, in my space. “The thought of making your Little Girl cum while she is dying makes me so fucking wet mister …”
She grins at me and slightly blushes. I know she's not lying by her reaction. She really would kill the slut!
If I wasn't turned on before, I am now. I nod my head for her to come closer to me. She obliges without any further thought. When she reaches me, it's clear that she's not quite sure what she wants to do. I'm very sure she knows what to do, but she's much more nervous now that we are here alone and in the daylight, enjoying a kind of illicit privacy, than she ever is when we are a threesome, or when we slept together.
I push away from the desk and stand up straight. Her gaze follows me as I stand before her. Her blush deepens and I motion for her to come even closer. Both of her hands raise and rest on my chest as I reach around to her lower back. Her face cradles into my neck and I'm surprised when I feel her lips there. I don't pull away, I let her do what she wants. This was her idea anyway.
She doesn't give me time to process what just happened as I'm leaning down to her. She escapes my hold and lowers to the ground in front of me. Her legs are spread as she kneels and looks up through the curtain of her hair.
She wears a bikini. She looks like swimwear model.
I straighten back up and lean against the desk again, watching her. What I thought was nervousness from her turns into very forward confidence. This is Red, the true Red, and I like her … a lot.
Her hands rest on both of my thighs; her sights set on my groin. She bites her lip and I can feel myself harden even more as I watch her.
Red is hot. Such a juvenile thought, but it was true.
I'm bulging under my shorts and the tattooed beauty has a front row seat. She hasn't even touched me yet. Other than her hands rubbing dangerously close by. I keep my composure as I let her do whatever she wants. Her hands trail up and down my thighs and she looks up at me with hooded eyes.
That's when I break. I can feel my facial expression change, and without any control I groan and look away from her before I decide to take control of this entire situation. I'm not going to do it. This is all her. I’m going to give her free reign.
"What do you want, mister?" Her small voice is otherwise loud in the quiet room. I allow myself to look back down at her. Her hands are still playing dangerously close to where I really want her to touch me.
She's knows what she's doing and she knows what she wants. She's doing this on purpose. I'm not one to beg or instruct, or answer a question like that in this way. I'm one to usually take control and do it myself. But she's the one taking here. She's teasing.
I laugh and shake my head watching her hands, and she smiles back at me. "You are something el.." I say.
Before I can even finish talking, her touch finally reaches my cock through the thin fabric. I groan again, realising just provocative she was being, and how much she was beginning to drive me crazy.
Red doesn't look away as she brings her mouth to the bulge through the light blue material. Her head is turned sideways to look up at me and I feel her hot breath against the side of my cock through the fabric. I rest my hand on her forehead to increase the pressure of her mouth against me. She moans, and then I feel her tongue there. My mouth falls open and I can only imagine that my expression is one of pure pleasure while I look down at the show before me.
Her other hand tightens on my thigh briefly. I am hard as a rock. I barely, if at all, thrust my hips toward her in hopes that she'll move along the still growing length. It's enough to get her to make her next move. With her mouth still against the bulge, she slides her hand from my thigh up to the white drawstring. To save precious time, I quickly pull the string loose for her. She moves my hand away, almost seeming offended that I interrupted her. Taking her mouth away from me and, as if to punish me further, she completes the action as slowly as she can. Then I feel my shorts being tugged down.
My knuckles turn white gripping against the desk. I force myself to wait and watch. She pauses with my shorts pulling against the top of my shaft, pushing at my cock but not yet allowing it to spring free. I stay put, watching her.
So this is what she's like? I never would have guessed. It's the ones you least expect. She get's off on this. Being in control. Is she in charge when the girl’s fuck? I can see it in her eyes as she looks up at me. Here I am ready to fuck her, and she's barely even ready to start on me. It's what she wants; this submissive behaviour from me. She loves it. It turns me on even more because she's getting exactly what she wants. No … she's taking what she wants.
"Tease," I say. Her eyes light up at the word and her hand squeezes at the bulge, which has now become a tent, and her mouth returns there, bringing the warm breath of air back with it. This time, I reach around the back of her head to keep her in situ. I use my other hand to grip my shaft while her lips are still on me.
Red’s moan makes me push her head against me harder. Her tongue makes a wet spot on my shorts turning then light blue, dark, and when I finally let her pull away a thick string of saliva follows, leaving a thread of it between my shorts and her bottom lip.
Giving her no chance to protest, holding the back of her head with one hand, I use the other to pull my shorts down enough to free my aching erection. The release of pressure heightens my desire, and it is with difficulty that I relinquish my hold on her. But I want her to come to me, just like she has been doing. I rest my hands on the desk again and enjoy the feel of her warm breath on the swollen and leaking head.
"That wasn't very nice." She tells me, not even letting her eyes reach mine. Her attention is more focused elsewhere.
"You're not being very nice either." I say reflecting upon the teasing she had been administering.
"You want me to be nicer?" There it is. The teasing tone I was waiting to come out of her.
"Generosity can never hurt." I play along.
"I can be very generous." She says, her hand wrapping around my girth at the very base.
"Show me how generous you can be," Her hand moves up along my length and then back down to the base and up again.
I sit up straighter, causing her to come closer to me. My hand rests on the back of her head, but I don't pressure her to do anything or come any closer. I just want to feel her there.
“Do you really want this mister?”
“Like nothing I’ve ever wanted before Red …” I replied, which was not literally true, but right now I desperately needed her to suck me off!
Her lips spread and the tip of my cock slides into her mouth and she moans, tries to take more of me deeper, and then eventually down her throat. Red gags and I hold her hair to make her slow down. Her make up is running down her cheeks … beautiful girl!
"Mister," she pleads with me as I rub the tip of my cock across her lips.
"Yes," I say.
"I want you to fuck me." She says. I can feel her lips form each word against my cock and it throbs with excitement. I pull her up and turn her around so that she is now facing the desk and gripping the edge with her fingers. My cock is resting between her thighs at the crotch of her bikini bottoms. Red exhales with a moan. I move one of my hands to the back of her neck and the other around her body to grip her breast.
"Say please," I tease her.
"Please fuck me," she begs.
"Bend lower," I say quietly, yet with a demanding assertion. She quickly does as I say, her cheek resting against the smooth wood top of the desk.
I stand behind her and run my hand up her thigh. When I reach her ass I pull back and smack her. She gasps and moans. When I look at her side profile wood, she's smiling and her eyes are closed.
I do the same to the other cheek, smacking her hard and quick. Her grip visibly tightens and she tries to push her ass back against me. I grab her hips and keep her in place, rubbing the red welts following the flogging we gave her, heightened now by the slaps I just administered.
Red sighs as I pull her bikini to one side and run my finger along the moisture which is now rapidly pooling. She moans and turns her face so her other cheek is resting against the wooden top now. Her hand is gripped tight against the edge of the desk, anticipating my next touch.
I rub my thumb along her slit, sliding it inside. The next sound she makes is deeper and more feral. That's what I want. I move my thumb in and out of her body, watching her face. Her reaction to every move I make is exquisite.
"Please," I hear her whisper as her body begins to tremble and tense.
I don't say another word. I remove my thumb thrust my cock into her.
"Yesssss, ohhhh fuck mister … so fucking deep," Red moans writhes in position. She wants to adjust. I let her. "Keep going," she says. I do as I'm told, wondering what she’d do if I tried to get her to take full control again.
My grip tightens on her hips once more and I grind into her, my gaze trained on her face … I watch her eyes barely open to look back at me.
"Yes, Mister, oh fuck … yesss." she says again.
******
“So, shall we?” Red turns to face me. We are laying naked on the bed, post coital, my arm under her body, her hand flat against my chest. Like the lovers we had just been.
“What?”
“Kill her?”
“Are you really serious?”
“Yes, Mister, very serious.”
I turned to look at her and saw the intensity in her eyes.
She was serious …
Leaning into her pretty face my mouth met hers and we kissed.
Finally, pulling away I smiled and said, “Yes … let’s.”
“She’s a mess.” Red spoke matter-of-factly as we stood together looking down at my Little Girl, who was laid sleeping on the bed in the second bedroom. She had been there all night, ever since we somehow managed to get her from the Cabana, wearing nothing but a robe, to the bedroom.
“You beat her so badly.”
At first she hadn’t seemed so bad. Beaten, yes, and bleeding just a little. Exhausted for sure, and with limited strength for speech. But she was conscious and sentient, and obeyed my instruction when I commanded her to suck my cock and swallow my seed. She was a wonderful cock-sucker and she performed admirably given what she had just been through.
“I have never seen her so bruised.”
But once I laid her down and coated her bruises with super-strength arnica, before smothering antibiotic and antiseptic on her welts and cuts, she had drifted into a deep sleep and not really woke up since. For a time I was concerned about her developing a fever, but that never transpired, and now it was all about regaining her strength.
“She looks so peaceful, so beautiful.”
Red and I had slept together. We fucked. And then slept. And now it was 9:30 am and we had just eaten a room service breakfast. Perfect.
“We could kill her?”
“Huh?” The statement came from my slut’s friend and lover, the ragged response from me.
“Kill her? You serious?”
“She talks about it a lot. She wants you to cut her open and let her bleed out. In her wildest fantasies she wants me to be cut open too, so that she can lay on top of me and we can let our internal organs merge as we bleed into one another.”
I closed my eyes and groaned.
“Does that turn you on mister?”
Did it? I think it did? Was I sick? I think I was?
“But I don’t want to die. Not really. Dicing with death, teasing it, letting it lap around our naked bodies fills me with lust, but I don’t want to actually die.”
I nodded, my throat dry, my voice momentarily incapable.
“But she does, she would die if everything about it was right. Like it was in her fantasies.”
Fuck. Did she mean this? Was Red serious?
“Talking like this has made you hard mister.”
She was right, it had, so fucking hard.
“Did me being fucked by those guys turn you on?”
It did. I nodded silently. “You mean raped?” I added.
She smiled, “I guess, if that’s how you like to think of it? Gang-raped mister. I was helpless and they laughed while they fucked me everywhere …”
Holy crap! Now I really was hard, achingly so. Did I just moan?
As she looked at me, I felt Red’s hand slip into mine and our fingers entwine.
“Come with me mister.” She pulled gently and I went with her to the master bedroom, and the bed in which we had slept and fucked.
“It turned me on too,” Did she mean the rape or the death fantasy? Probably both. Did it even matter?
Red looks at me as we enter the room and I am leaning on the dresser with this tattooed beauty up close to me, in my space. “The thought of making your Little Girl cum while she is dying makes me so fucking wet mister …”
She grins at me and slightly blushes. I know she's not lying by her reaction. She really would kill the slut!
If I wasn't turned on before, I am now. I nod my head for her to come closer to me. She obliges without any further thought. When she reaches me, it's clear that she's not quite sure what she wants to do. I'm very sure she knows what to do, but she's much more nervous now that we are here alone and in the daylight, enjoying a kind of illicit privacy, than she ever is when we are a threesome, or when we slept together.
I push away from the desk and stand up straight. Her gaze follows me as I stand before her. Her blush deepens and I motion for her to come even closer. Both of her hands raise and rest on my chest as I reach around to her lower back. Her face cradles into my neck and I'm surprised when I feel her lips there. I don't pull away, I let her do what she wants. This was her idea anyway.
She doesn't give me time to process what just happened as I'm leaning down to her. She escapes my hold and lowers to the ground in front of me. Her legs are spread as she kneels and looks up through the curtain of her hair.
She wears a bikini. She looks like swimwear model.
I straighten back up and lean against the desk again, watching her. What I thought was nervousness from her turns into very forward confidence. This is Red, the true Red, and I like her … a lot.
Her hands rest on both of my thighs; her sights set on my groin. She bites her lip and I can feel myself harden even more as I watch her.
Red is hot. Such a juvenile thought, but it was true.
I'm bulging under my shorts and the tattooed beauty has a front row seat. She hasn't even touched me yet. Other than her hands rubbing dangerously close by. I keep my composure as I let her do whatever she wants. Her hands trail up and down my thighs and she looks up at me with hooded eyes.
That's when I break. I can feel my facial expression change, and without any control I groan and look away from her before I decide to take control of this entire situation. I'm not going to do it. This is all her. I’m going to give her free reign.
"What do you want, mister?" Her small voice is otherwise loud in the quiet room. I allow myself to look back down at her. Her hands are still playing dangerously close to where I really want her to touch me.
She's knows what she's doing and she knows what she wants. She's doing this on purpose. I'm not one to beg or instruct, or answer a question like that in this way. I'm one to usually take control and do it myself. But she's the one taking here. She's teasing.
I laugh and shake my head watching her hands, and she smiles back at me. "You are something el.." I say.
Before I can even finish talking, her touch finally reaches my cock through the thin fabric. I groan again, realising just provocative she was being, and how much she was beginning to drive me crazy.
Red doesn't look away as she brings her mouth to the bulge through the light blue material. Her head is turned sideways to look up at me and I feel her hot breath against the side of my cock through the fabric. I rest my hand on her forehead to increase the pressure of her mouth against me. She moans, and then I feel her tongue there. My mouth falls open and I can only imagine that my expression is one of pure pleasure while I look down at the show before me.
Her other hand tightens on my thigh briefly. I am hard as a rock. I barely, if at all, thrust my hips toward her in hopes that she'll move along the still growing length. It's enough to get her to make her next move. With her mouth still against the bulge, she slides her hand from my thigh up to the white drawstring. To save precious time, I quickly pull the string loose for her. She moves my hand away, almost seeming offended that I interrupted her. Taking her mouth away from me and, as if to punish me further, she completes the action as slowly as she can. Then I feel my shorts being tugged down.
My knuckles turn white gripping against the desk. I force myself to wait and watch. She pauses with my shorts pulling against the top of my shaft, pushing at my cock but not yet allowing it to spring free. I stay put, watching her.
So this is what she's like? I never would have guessed. It's the ones you least expect. She get's off on this. Being in control. Is she in charge when the girl’s fuck? I can see it in her eyes as she looks up at me. Here I am ready to fuck her, and she's barely even ready to start on me. It's what she wants; this submissive behaviour from me. She loves it. It turns me on even more because she's getting exactly what she wants. No … she's taking what she wants.
"Tease," I say. Her eyes light up at the word and her hand squeezes at the bulge, which has now become a tent, and her mouth returns there, bringing the warm breath of air back with it. This time, I reach around the back of her head to keep her in situ. I use my other hand to grip my shaft while her lips are still on me.
Red’s moan makes me push her head against me harder. Her tongue makes a wet spot on my shorts turning then light blue, dark, and when I finally let her pull away a thick string of saliva follows, leaving a thread of it between my shorts and her bottom lip.
Giving her no chance to protest, holding the back of her head with one hand, I use the other to pull my shorts down enough to free my aching erection. The release of pressure heightens my desire, and it is with difficulty that I relinquish my hold on her. But I want her to come to me, just like she has been doing. I rest my hands on the desk again and enjoy the feel of her warm breath on the swollen and leaking head.
"That wasn't very nice." She tells me, not even letting her eyes reach mine. Her attention is more focused elsewhere.
"You're not being very nice either." I say reflecting upon the teasing she had been administering.
"You want me to be nicer?" There it is. The teasing tone I was waiting to come out of her.
"Generosity can never hurt." I play along.
"I can be very generous." She says, her hand wrapping around my girth at the very base.
"Show me how generous you can be," Her hand moves up along my length and then back down to the base and up again.
I sit up straighter, causing her to come closer to me. My hand rests on the back of her head, but I don't pressure her to do anything or come any closer. I just want to feel her there.
“Do you really want this mister?”
“Like nothing I’ve ever wanted before Red …” I replied, which was not literally true, but right now I desperately needed her to suck me off!
Her lips spread and the tip of my cock slides into her mouth and she moans, tries to take more of me deeper, and then eventually down her throat. Red gags and I hold her hair to make her slow down. Her make up is running down her cheeks … beautiful girl!
"Mister," she pleads with me as I rub the tip of my cock across her lips.
"Yes," I say.
"I want you to fuck me." She says. I can feel her lips form each word against my cock and it throbs with excitement. I pull her up and turn her around so that she is now facing the desk and gripping the edge with her fingers. My cock is resting between her thighs at the crotch of her bikini bottoms. Red exhales with a moan. I move one of my hands to the back of her neck and the other around her body to grip her breast.
"Say please," I tease her.
"Please fuck me," she begs.
"Bend lower," I say quietly, yet with a demanding assertion. She quickly does as I say, her cheek resting against the smooth wood top of the desk.
I stand behind her and run my hand up her thigh. When I reach her ass I pull back and smack her. She gasps and moans. When I look at her side profile wood, she's smiling and her eyes are closed.
I do the same to the other cheek, smacking her hard and quick. Her grip visibly tightens and she tries to push her ass back against me. I grab her hips and keep her in place, rubbing the red welts following the flogging we gave her, heightened now by the slaps I just administered.
Red sighs as I pull her bikini to one side and run my finger along the moisture which is now rapidly pooling. She moans and turns her face so her other cheek is resting against the wooden top now. Her hand is gripped tight against the edge of the desk, anticipating my next touch.
I rub my thumb along her slit, sliding it inside. The next sound she makes is deeper and more feral. That's what I want. I move my thumb in and out of her body, watching her face. Her reaction to every move I make is exquisite.
"Please," I hear her whisper as her body begins to tremble and tense.
I don't say another word. I remove my thumb thrust my cock into her.
"Yesssss, ohhhh fuck mister … so fucking deep," Red moans writhes in position. She wants to adjust. I let her. "Keep going," she says. I do as I'm told, wondering what she’d do if I tried to get her to take full control again.
My grip tightens on her hips once more and I grind into her, my gaze trained on her face … I watch her eyes barely open to look back at me.
"Yes, Mister, oh fuck … yesss." she says again.
******
“So, shall we?” Red turns to face me. We are laying naked on the bed, post coital, my arm under her body, her hand flat against my chest. Like the lovers we had just been.
“What?”
“Kill her?”
“Are you really serious?”
“Yes, Mister, very serious.”
I turned to look at her and saw the intensity in her eyes.
She was serious …
Leaning into her pretty face my mouth met hers and we kissed.
Finally, pulling away I smiled and said, “Yes … let’s.”
nicole
Tribune
brrrrrr .very exciting
Peony
Magistrate
VERY exciting!
Pippajayne
Executioner
So far so good, I tend to read things at my own pace just a few paragraphs at a time, it's wonderful to read that both you, and your BF are so sensible easing into things nice and slow. I hear so many fantasy stories of people that just don’t know what they are doing. It’s all about trust safety enjoyment and knowing your limits. Go for it I so look forward to reading on as you push forward into your sensual journey.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
It's great that you have joined us, thank you ... please stay with us @Pippajayne
Peony
Magistrate
JOURNEY OF A PAIN SLUT - ACT 6 Chapter 35
They think I'm asleep. Well, almost I am. Almost. Let's say half-asleep. And I hurt like hell and I love this feeling.
Let's say I'm dozing.
Day-dreaming at night.
It's possible.
Half-dreaming. Half-imagining.
And thinking.
And I'm thinking how I loved the day. How I loved my naked body being tied and hanging from my wrists and being hurt so much. I loved it all.
And I'm thinking.
It's a strange road I'm taking.
A nice girl from the South coast with a nice family and I used to have a nice BF. And then I found that piece of me that had always been there and I fell in love with that piece of me. And no other piece of me meant that much to me anymore. Not my family, not my studies, not my... well, I know it, so I think it... not my future and not my life.
It's a path with only one end point. I get that now. There is only once place to end this.
And part of me will be sad, because I've already realised I just can't tell anyone. I can't tell my sis. I can't tell her anything. She may guess. But she will never know. Because I will just have to disappear. Because that's the kindest way.
And Her. Abi. I love Her. I love Her totally. Too much. She's too beautiful. She's too gorgeous. And she knows that. She likes what I love. And I know that and she knows that and so she knows that she will go. He may think she'll go with Him. Maybe. But I don't think so. She'll just go. Maybe back to Uni. To her work. To other girls. Maybe she'll travel. Maybe she'll get involved with other girls. Maybe she'll keep wanting to find that special hurt at the end of the journey. Maybe. But I know she'll go. I'll cry, but she'll go. I know.
And me?
I think it will end. I want it to end, I suppose. Because madness can't go on forever. I need more and more hurt. I need it too much. And there's only one place it can take me. He hasn't really worked that out yet. When He does, I think he'll be scared. Really scared. But Abi will help Him. She's soft and sweet and lovely and as hard as nails. And she will help him. But he'll be so fucking scared. Scared of what he's about to do, what he's done, what will happen to him. Scared shitless.
And me?
I feel more at peace at this moment than ever I have.
I feel content. Because I have decided. And that's how it has to be.
And me?
I know what I want. I will leave it to them to decide where and when, but I know it has to happen now. Soon. It can't wait. It wants me.
And me?
How should it be? Long. Slow. I must hurt. I must feel myself hurt. I must see myself hurt. I must have Her see me hurt. I know she will want that. She loves to see me hurt. I like that.
And me?
With beauty. With flowers. Not with a fucking and I blow-job. Like a martyr. Like a saint.
And me?
On a cross? On a pyre? On a scaffold? I know it's not for me to decide. It's for them. Together. They must decide and they must tell me. And they know that I will agree. Because that's what I want. I want them to know it's ok. That they are doing what I have always really wanted, and that there is no greater act of love in the world.
And me?
I will hurt. Terribly. My body, my young body that everyone says is beautiful. My face, that everyone says is beautiful. My soft breasts, that everyone says are beautiful. They will all be gone. All destroyed. All hurt beyond hurting.
And me?
I will be so perfectly peaceful.
And I smile. And I turn slightly on the bed. And I close my eyes. And now I can sleep. In total peace.
They think I'm asleep. Well, almost I am. Almost. Let's say half-asleep. And I hurt like hell and I love this feeling.
Let's say I'm dozing.
Day-dreaming at night.
It's possible.
Half-dreaming. Half-imagining.
And thinking.
And I'm thinking how I loved the day. How I loved my naked body being tied and hanging from my wrists and being hurt so much. I loved it all.
And I'm thinking.
It's a strange road I'm taking.
A nice girl from the South coast with a nice family and I used to have a nice BF. And then I found that piece of me that had always been there and I fell in love with that piece of me. And no other piece of me meant that much to me anymore. Not my family, not my studies, not my... well, I know it, so I think it... not my future and not my life.
It's a path with only one end point. I get that now. There is only once place to end this.
And part of me will be sad, because I've already realised I just can't tell anyone. I can't tell my sis. I can't tell her anything. She may guess. But she will never know. Because I will just have to disappear. Because that's the kindest way.
And Her. Abi. I love Her. I love Her totally. Too much. She's too beautiful. She's too gorgeous. And she knows that. She likes what I love. And I know that and she knows that and so she knows that she will go. He may think she'll go with Him. Maybe. But I don't think so. She'll just go. Maybe back to Uni. To her work. To other girls. Maybe she'll travel. Maybe she'll get involved with other girls. Maybe she'll keep wanting to find that special hurt at the end of the journey. Maybe. But I know she'll go. I'll cry, but she'll go. I know.
And me?
I think it will end. I want it to end, I suppose. Because madness can't go on forever. I need more and more hurt. I need it too much. And there's only one place it can take me. He hasn't really worked that out yet. When He does, I think he'll be scared. Really scared. But Abi will help Him. She's soft and sweet and lovely and as hard as nails. And she will help him. But he'll be so fucking scared. Scared of what he's about to do, what he's done, what will happen to him. Scared shitless.
And me?
I feel more at peace at this moment than ever I have.
I feel content. Because I have decided. And that's how it has to be.
And me?
I know what I want. I will leave it to them to decide where and when, but I know it has to happen now. Soon. It can't wait. It wants me.
And me?
How should it be? Long. Slow. I must hurt. I must feel myself hurt. I must see myself hurt. I must have Her see me hurt. I know she will want that. She loves to see me hurt. I like that.
And me?
With beauty. With flowers. Not with a fucking and I blow-job. Like a martyr. Like a saint.
And me?
On a cross? On a pyre? On a scaffold? I know it's not for me to decide. It's for them. Together. They must decide and they must tell me. And they know that I will agree. Because that's what I want. I want them to know it's ok. That they are doing what I have always really wanted, and that there is no greater act of love in the world.
And me?
I will hurt. Terribly. My body, my young body that everyone says is beautiful. My face, that everyone says is beautiful. My soft breasts, that everyone says are beautiful. They will all be gone. All destroyed. All hurt beyond hurting.
And me?
I will be so perfectly peaceful.
And I smile. And I turn slightly on the bed. And I close my eyes. And now I can sleep. In total peace.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
JOURNEY OF A PAIN SLUT - ACT 6 Chapter 36
“Did we get everything?” Red turned to me as she chewed provocatively on her lower lip.
I nodded, “I think so, we should have enough to do …” I left the sentence unfinished. We both knew only too well what the intention was, and if I was being honest, the reality of that intent was beginning to become so real, so damn scarily real …
******
“What, where, when … and fucking how?” The flame haired girl rattled off questions in rapid succession. She was already giddy, high on the thought of what we were planning to do.
I poured more coffee as we sat on the terrace looking out into the surrounding mountains, peaks that rose up from the beach.
“We need to be up there, in amongst the mountains of Pico de las Nieves.” I let my gaze drift up the where the clouds met the top. It was a beautiful day, our final day and we had an ‘appropriate death’ to plan.
It was death, right? Not murder. Didn’t murder need to have a victim, and my Littler Girl was not a victim, she would never see herself as that. She wanted this more than we did … she was a glorious recipient, not a victim.
Red’s eye-line followed my gaze, and she nodded. “There would be good, we’d need a car and some … accessories. How will we do it.”
She sounded more confident than I did. More in tune with what we were going to do. Maybe she had discussed this already with the slut, unbeknown to me.
I took a drink from my coffee. I hadn’t planned this far. We had talked about death, or at least my Little Girl had, much like Red said. But I wasn’t planning on it any time soon. Not until her friend and lover had suggested it.
But I could see why she had …
This holiday, this unbelievable vacation, had been perfect. How could we better things from here. This was the pinnacle of our time together and to end it in such beautiful surroundings in a foreign country, one that we would be leaving in 24 hours, seemed too ideal an opportunity to pass up.
“Sex and knives.” Was all I said. Somehow it seemed enough. Oh yes, she would be tied or chained or both, and cutting her open while she climaxed seemed like the fantasy she wanted. Her perfect death. We would deliver that to her.
Red nodded, then added, “But we can’t torture her. Not this time. We hurt her, we can be brutal with her, but we get on with the job, and celebrate her end with her. Do you agree mister?”
I looked at the beautiful student before me. She was so damn wise, way beyond her years, much like my Little Girl. She knew what we must do, she had a certainty about her.
“Yes I do agree, we must make everything just right.”
Red nodded again, “And I guess the ‘when’ is today right, as soon as we get everything?”
“Has to be, we leave tomorrow. We have no time to waste.”
The hire car had arrived in less than an hour. A Volvo of some sort, and XC thing, 60 I think. Plenty of room though, which was what we wanted.
And now we were returning from the store in the nearby town.
“Did we get everything?”
“I think so, we should have enough to do …”
“… To do what we need to do, right mister?”
I smiled, and nodded, my gaze focused on the road ahead. Would I kill her without ever knowing her name? What a bizarre thought.
The slut was still sleeping when we arrived back and so unpacking the bags without her seeing was easy.
Chains, rope, tape, hammer, nails, pliers, small fish hooks, fishing twine, three hunting knives, one with a vicious looking serrated edge and a large hand held vibrator.
“I’m amazed no-one asked what we were going to do,” Red smiled at me. She was right, given the shopping list we had.
The largest item was a small set of ladders, which had been left in the car.
“Are we all set,” my co-conspirator asked me.
Red was still on-massage. Moving to plan, both physically and in her head. I was becoming a little more wary.
… could we really get away with this? What would we do with the body? Could we then just leave the country, Red and I?
“We are … ready, I think,” was my initial reply, before I added, “Will you miss her.”
“Yes,” was Red’s immediate response, “… more than anything … I love her. But it’s because I love her that we are doing this. I want this for her.”
“But she wants you to do it with her. To die together in a kind of lover’s pact. So, do you really think this is what she wants?”
“I don’t want to die yet mister. This is the best I can offer to her. I won’t choose to die … not even for her.”
I saw Red’s eyes tear up and I felt the choke myself. She was being very genuine. These girls were unbelievable. Awesome. Beautiful. Fantasies. And they were mine.
“Should we wake her and make a start?” My Little Girl’s lover asked.
“Yes, we should.” Despite the gravity of what we were about to do, I could already feel the desire inflaming my groin. As I stood, I felt heady, and needed to pause a moment.
“She will be awake, if not now, then soon. Should we sedate her.”
Red was right, we should sedate the slut. Start as we mean to go on. Make her docile for the trip. Tie her tightly. Hurt her from the very beginning, then make sure she is wide awake to experience everything!
As we stood to head towards the bedroom, Red stopped me. Moving into my personal space, she looked into my face. Her lips were moist, her eyes heavy with the magnitude of what we were about to do.
“Thank you, mister. You know that she loves you, don’t you? In her own way she knows you are very special to her. What you are about to do is the right way to deliver what she wants. She will die a good death …”
I nodded and sighed. “And it seems like today is a good day to die!”
“Did we get everything?” Red turned to me as she chewed provocatively on her lower lip.
I nodded, “I think so, we should have enough to do …” I left the sentence unfinished. We both knew only too well what the intention was, and if I was being honest, the reality of that intent was beginning to become so real, so damn scarily real …
******
“What, where, when … and fucking how?” The flame haired girl rattled off questions in rapid succession. She was already giddy, high on the thought of what we were planning to do.
I poured more coffee as we sat on the terrace looking out into the surrounding mountains, peaks that rose up from the beach.
“We need to be up there, in amongst the mountains of Pico de las Nieves.” I let my gaze drift up the where the clouds met the top. It was a beautiful day, our final day and we had an ‘appropriate death’ to plan.
It was death, right? Not murder. Didn’t murder need to have a victim, and my Littler Girl was not a victim, she would never see herself as that. She wanted this more than we did … she was a glorious recipient, not a victim.
Red’s eye-line followed my gaze, and she nodded. “There would be good, we’d need a car and some … accessories. How will we do it.”
She sounded more confident than I did. More in tune with what we were going to do. Maybe she had discussed this already with the slut, unbeknown to me.
I took a drink from my coffee. I hadn’t planned this far. We had talked about death, or at least my Little Girl had, much like Red said. But I wasn’t planning on it any time soon. Not until her friend and lover had suggested it.
But I could see why she had …
This holiday, this unbelievable vacation, had been perfect. How could we better things from here. This was the pinnacle of our time together and to end it in such beautiful surroundings in a foreign country, one that we would be leaving in 24 hours, seemed too ideal an opportunity to pass up.
“Sex and knives.” Was all I said. Somehow it seemed enough. Oh yes, she would be tied or chained or both, and cutting her open while she climaxed seemed like the fantasy she wanted. Her perfect death. We would deliver that to her.
Red nodded, then added, “But we can’t torture her. Not this time. We hurt her, we can be brutal with her, but we get on with the job, and celebrate her end with her. Do you agree mister?”
I looked at the beautiful student before me. She was so damn wise, way beyond her years, much like my Little Girl. She knew what we must do, she had a certainty about her.
“Yes I do agree, we must make everything just right.”
Red nodded again, “And I guess the ‘when’ is today right, as soon as we get everything?”
“Has to be, we leave tomorrow. We have no time to waste.”
The hire car had arrived in less than an hour. A Volvo of some sort, and XC thing, 60 I think. Plenty of room though, which was what we wanted.
And now we were returning from the store in the nearby town.
“Did we get everything?”
“I think so, we should have enough to do …”
“… To do what we need to do, right mister?”
I smiled, and nodded, my gaze focused on the road ahead. Would I kill her without ever knowing her name? What a bizarre thought.
The slut was still sleeping when we arrived back and so unpacking the bags without her seeing was easy.
Chains, rope, tape, hammer, nails, pliers, small fish hooks, fishing twine, three hunting knives, one with a vicious looking serrated edge and a large hand held vibrator.
“I’m amazed no-one asked what we were going to do,” Red smiled at me. She was right, given the shopping list we had.
The largest item was a small set of ladders, which had been left in the car.
“Are we all set,” my co-conspirator asked me.
Red was still on-massage. Moving to plan, both physically and in her head. I was becoming a little more wary.
… could we really get away with this? What would we do with the body? Could we then just leave the country, Red and I?
“We are … ready, I think,” was my initial reply, before I added, “Will you miss her.”
“Yes,” was Red’s immediate response, “… more than anything … I love her. But it’s because I love her that we are doing this. I want this for her.”
“But she wants you to do it with her. To die together in a kind of lover’s pact. So, do you really think this is what she wants?”
“I don’t want to die yet mister. This is the best I can offer to her. I won’t choose to die … not even for her.”
I saw Red’s eyes tear up and I felt the choke myself. She was being very genuine. These girls were unbelievable. Awesome. Beautiful. Fantasies. And they were mine.
“Should we wake her and make a start?” My Little Girl’s lover asked.
“Yes, we should.” Despite the gravity of what we were about to do, I could already feel the desire inflaming my groin. As I stood, I felt heady, and needed to pause a moment.
“She will be awake, if not now, then soon. Should we sedate her.”
Red was right, we should sedate the slut. Start as we mean to go on. Make her docile for the trip. Tie her tightly. Hurt her from the very beginning, then make sure she is wide awake to experience everything!
As we stood to head towards the bedroom, Red stopped me. Moving into my personal space, she looked into my face. Her lips were moist, her eyes heavy with the magnitude of what we were about to do.
“Thank you, mister. You know that she loves you, don’t you? In her own way she knows you are very special to her. What you are about to do is the right way to deliver what she wants. She will die a good death …”
I nodded and sighed. “And it seems like today is a good day to die!”